


In the Name of Science

by JJJJ12



Series: Sherlock, the Mad Scientist [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Sexual Tension, Sherlock is a Brat, Sherlock's Mind Palace, Sherlolly - Freeform, Vibrators, Virgin Sherlock, Wank!Lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-07 08:50:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJJJ12/pseuds/JJJJ12
Summary: Sherlock's newest case has left the consulting detective baffled. His lack of knowledge of sex has finally impeded his ability to solve a case. Good thing his trusty pathologist is there to lend a helping hand...even if the detective is a bit of a sexy brat. THREE SHOT.





	1. The Mystery

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing Sherlock! Hope you enjoy. This will be a three shot, so please let me know what you think!

There were some things in life that never made sense to Sherlock Holmes. John’s attraction to blonde women. The incompetence of Scotland Yard. Mycroft’s fascination with Victoria sandwiches. American style chips. Sex for pleasure.

_Yes_. _That made no sense._

Sherlock set his violin aside, his fingers numb from overplaying and his mind whirling with thoughts on his newest case. What he initially gave a solid 5 and barely convinced himself to accept had blossomed into a beautiful, wonderful, most thought-provoking solid 8 in the matter of 16 hours.

_The game had begun._

Or, at least, it should have. But here he sat, his fingers dancing thoughtlessly across the beat-up armrest of his precious chair.

_Sex. Fucking. Shagging._

_Why? Why would someone willingly engage in such acts?_

Sherlock was a logical man. He understood the human body and the routines that were required to keep oneself healthy.

He ate when he required subsistence. He slept when he required strength. These functions made sense.

_They are necessary. They are logical._

But why did people insist on engaging in sex outside of procreation?

Sherlock rose to his feet, his body immediately thrown into a relentless pace around his sitting room.

Sexual intercourse was required to reproduce. Therefore, if one were to desire offspring, they would simply engage in sexual intercourse with a woman of childbearing age.

So why in God’s name did people shag outside of their desire for children?

_Simple-minded weaknesses._

Sherlock collapsed back into his chair, his eyes slowly shutting, his body preparing to descend back into his mind palace. That was until John Watson barreled his way in, his shorter stature weighed down by a bag of take-away.

“Oy! Sherlock. Glad I caught you. Mary dropped us off some food,” John smiled and lifted the grease stained brown bag.

Sherlock merely opened one eye to evaluate his partner and the greasy take-away.

_Disheveled hair. Afternoon escapade with Mary._

_Shirt without wrinkles. Hair dried in ringlets. Activities performed in shower._

_Favoring right leg. Activities performed for too long. Pulled muscle from lifting partner._

His eyes shifted to the take-away.

_Fish and chips. Hammersmith. Fish frozen, chips day old. Two months from shutting down._

His eyes shifted back to John.

“I’m not hungry. Why are you here?”

John gave his partner an inquisitive look. “You are always asking for me to be here, and the one time I show up unannounced, you don’t need my company?”

Sherlock gave an exasperated sigh and jumped to his feet. “Yes, John, exactly.”

The shorter man shook his head before dropping the bag on a table. He began to unpack the containers.

“Well, you may not be hungry, but I certainly am. And what’s got you in such a mood?” John opened a box and shoved a greasy chip into his mouth. “I thought this new case would have put a smile on that miserable face of yours.”

This earned the doctor a brief, forced, and rather creepy smirk from the detective.

“Satisfied?”

John sighed and shoved another chip in his mouth. “Don’t be a prat.”

“Fine. Perhaps you can assist me.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” John began cutting into his fillet, having a rather difficult time with the fish and the plastic cutlery.

_Yes. Frozen._

Sherlock shifted his eyes away from the take-away and back to his partner.

“Tell me. How often do you and Mary engage in sexual intercourse?”

The piece that John had spent so long sawing into came sputtering out of his mouth at the question. After a brief choke and a sip of water, he redirected his attention to the detective.

“Come again?”

Sherlock let out another exasperated sigh.

_These questions are bloody simple, even for an idiot like John._

“You. Mary. Sex. How frequent?”

John narrowed his eyes. “What? Are you going to analyze my relationship based on how frequently we shag?”

Sherlock laughed. “I can do that from looking at you. I certainly don’t need your hints.”

John dropped the fork and crossed his arms. “You’re barking.”

The detective stuck his nose up. “Discussing the frequency of your shags would take hours. So, we’ll settle with your activities this morning.”

Sherlock took a lap around John, who sat watching curiously.

“You and Mary had an afternoon encounter in the shower. You were the first in, presumably washing off the dust from cleaning the sitting room—her idea and at her insistence. She felt awful for making you do the work, and surprised you in the shower. You were delighted yet weary. You hate lifting her.”

He took another spin, his eyes traveling over every inch of the doctor.

“Your encounter lasted approximately ten minutes, four minutes shorter than it would have had you not been wanking before her entry. Your left leg is in pain from holding her for so long. Presumably a muscle sprain.”

His eyes drifted to the boring, navy top of his friend.

“Your shirt is free of wrinkles as it sat in the room for the duration of the event. Your hair is dried improperly, suggesting a rush out of the bathroom because you were late for something. Knowing your schedule, it was a meeting with your therapist. Anything else?”

John blinked, attempting to hold back his astonishment. His mate did this frequently. Still never ceased to amaze him.

“No, Sherlock. That will be all, thank you,” John grumbled before resuming his eating.

“Splendid. So. Your sex life. Frequency?”

John groaned. “God Sherlock, I don’t know. I reckon it varies. Maybe three times a week? It depends on my work schedule. It depends on if we’re working on a case. And of course, there’s the week off for her menses.”

Sherlock made a weak sound of acknowledgement before dropping to his chair. He brought his hands together, resting his index fingers against his nostrils, his thumbs resting under his chin. His eyes drifted closed.

“Why?”

John blinked. “Why what? Why do we take a week off for her menses?”

“No, you idiot. Why do you have sex?”

John blinked yet again. “Come again?”

Sherlock let out a growl from deep in his throat. “My god Watson! Do. You. Speak. English?”

The doctor yet again dropped his fork and looked over to his friend. “I’m sorry Sherlock, but it seems to me that you’re… You’re asking why I have sex with my wife. I’m just… Confused.”

“Well, obviously. You’re always confused.”

John glared at the curly-haired detective. “Surely you understand why two people have sex. Right?”

Sherlock opened one eye and gazed at his friend.

John couldn’t help but let out a tiny gasp. “Sherlock?”

At his whiny tone, the consulting detective dropped his hands and opened both eyes.

“I’ve sat here for hours, trying to figure out why in God’s name people could possibly engage in sex. It makes no sense,” Sherlock jumped to his feet and took another lap around John. “Take Mary for instance. You two are expecting. What biological purpose does sex serve now that you can’t impregnate her?”

John blinked again. “It bloody feels good Sherlock. That’s the purpose. Biologically, mentally, emotionally, whatever. It feels good.”

It was Sherlock’s time to blink. “I don’t get it.”

John just sighed. “Figures you wouldn’t. You must have wanked before.”

The consulting detective halted his lap around the room. He considered his response before continuing his movements around the space.

“Yes. But only when absolutely necessary.”

“When necessary? So… What’s your frequency?”

Sherlock stopped again. “Twenty-one.”

“Come again?”

“What was not clear about my answer? You asked for my frequency. I gave you a number.”

John again dropped the piece of fillet before it reached his mouth. “Sherlock… Is that monthly?”

The consulting detective laughed.

“Yearly?” John choked out.

Sherlock laughed again. This caused John’s eyes to bug out.

“Ever?”

The consulting detective nodded. “Once a year since I turned thirteen.”

John shut the lid on his food and pushed the box away, his eyes never leaving Sherlock. “No wonder you’re always so pent up! How… How can you possibly survive only wanking once a year?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Masturbating is a sign of weakness. I can quell any biological need I have for sex with a visit to my mind palace. I do indulge once a year. The body shouldn’t be prevented entirely from doing its biological duty.”

John opened his mouth to speak, but found himself speechless.

_Why is this so surprising?_

Sherlock continued to pace, this time his eyes floating to the collage of photos and maps plastered across his wall. His movement broke John out of his stupor.

“My god… Sherlock… You’re a virgin.”

“A virgin? If you’re asking if I’ve ever engaged in sexual intercourse, then the answer is no. I have not. And there’s no need to. You can’t even explain to me why you have sex when not trying to reproduce! All I got was a pathetic answer such as ‘it feels good’!”

John covered his mouth with his hands, momentarily silenced by his shock. Sure, he never imagined Sherlock as a man about town, fucking his way through Uni and beyond but… A virgin? This was on another level.

“It feels good is not a pathetic answer! Christ, Sherlock, if you don’t believe me, consider asking someone else. You never listen to me. But consider this. Sex brings you close to another person. Physically and emotionally. It relieves tension and stress and by god it feels bloody good!”

Sherlock sighed and waved his hand, signaling for John to stop his rant. The wall collage now fully held him captivated.

_Sex. Lies. Why?_

John rolled his eyes at the gesture before redirecting his attention to the wall as well.

“This has to do with the case, doesn’t it? The murdered couple that was involved with swinging?”

Sherlock groaned in annoyance. “Exactly, John. It only took you ten minutes and an entire container of chips to figure that one out.”

“You’re being a prat.”

“If I wanted to be insulted, I would invite Mycroft over for tea and Victoria sandwiches. Now. Sex.”

John ran his hands through his peppered hair and muttered to himself. Sherlock continued to scan the documents with his eyes.

“One of the murder weapons seems to a blunt object with a rounded edge, about 20 centimeters long, with some sort of pulsation or tremor. And the murders were committed during intercourse. None of it makes sense.”

John felt his cheeks go hot and a desperate laugh die in his throat. This was all too funny to the doctor.

“Well then. I need a change in scenery. Goodbye.”

With that, Sherlock moved towards the entry way, quickly slipping into his Belstaff, and tying his scarf in one seamless movement. John remained rooted to the ground, imaging all the possible ways he could embarrass his mate.

“Sherlock?”

“What?”

“Consider describing your murder weapon to Molly. I reckon she could know. You know… working with dead bodies and all.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Describing murders to a pathologist? Wow John, I never would have come up with that one myself.”

The consulting detective shook his head in irritation before departing, leaving John to let out his laughter.

However, barely a moment passed before Sherlock popped his head back in.

“Consider running to the shop. You’ll need something for food poisoning.”

With that, Sherlock was gone, leaving John to touch his stomach and immediately regret his previous meal.


	2. Indigo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock pays Molly a visit, still reeling from his conversation with John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the amazing feedback from chapter one! I initially said this was going to have two parts, but I've changed it. It will have three! Whenever I attempt to write a smutty one-shot, it turns into a 20k word event so three parts is better! In addition, I mention a book in this chapter --- it is my own creation! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Sherlock trudged up the stairs towards the entry way to Molly’s flat, his mind reeling with sounds bites from his conversation with John. Why was his partner so surprised by his admissions?

_I should have asked him how often he wanks._

That made Sherlock laugh. He already knew the answer to that question. Not just from living with John at Baker Street, but just from looking at him.

_Stronger grip on right arm. Relaxed demeanor in the morning. Laptop with empty browser history. Penchant for large bosoms._

_Frequency peaks at once a day but averages about five times a week._

Sherlock stopped in front of the door to Molly’s flat, further contemplating his discussion with the doctor.

_How could someone need to wank that frequently?_

He shook his head before beginning the thirty quick seconds it took him to pick Molly’s lock. Sure, he had a key, but breaking in was always more fun. Especially when he was working on a dull case.

_This is not a dull case. You just can’t figure it out._

Sherlock shook the thoughts out of his head and stormed inside, surprised to find the flat without its owner. He shrugged out of his jacket and wandered into the kitchen, immediately digging into the back cupboard to pull out a half empty box of chocolate biscuits. He normally didn’t eat while working on a case, but the frustration from being way out of his element was driving him to sugar.

He trudged back into the sitting room, collapsing rather inelegantly onto Molly’s sofa. He mindlessly began to shove the biscuits in his mouth, not even getting a chance to savor the rich chocolate and sweet center.

_Murder during sexual intercourse is not dull. 20 hours and counting. You’re losing your touch Sherlock._

Sherlock sighed and threw his body against the cushions, like a petulant child unhappy with a Christmas gift. With another biscuit shoved between his scowling lips, he redirected his attention to Molly’s cat, who a moment ago had rather stealthily entered the room.

The detective didn’t mind animals. In fact, he normally preferred their company to that of humans. They didn’t make as much noise, nor ask as many stupid questions.

Toby sniffled Sherlock’s arm that hung off the side of the soda. He licked the empty fingers before leaping onto the hard, male body, nuzzling himself into the soft material of Sherlock’s rather expensive shirt.

Sherlock sighed.

_Never mind. Animals are just as irritating as humans._

Regardless of his aversion to close relations with others, Sherlock allowed the cat to nuzzle himself into his chest, for once just appreciating the warm hum of another body. He stroked the soft fur of the cat as his eyes bounced over every centimeter of Molly’s sitting room.

His eyes eventually landed on the table that sat in front of the couch, noticing the takeaway coffee container with a lipstick mark around the top…

_Neutral color suggests work day. Dark imprint suggests purchased in the morning and sipped soon after getting ready._

A fashion magazine that was on subscription….

_Guilted into subscription by online advertisement. Barely browsed through. Perhaps why Molly still has the style of a prepubescent girl._

An electricity bill that was due in a week….

_Opened with intention to pay. Put aside to grab cheques in other room. Will be forgotten until reminder from utility company._

And a novel, worn around the edges.

_Folded edge of page. Center of coffee table. Currently being read._

_Ripped pages. Stain from liquid spill. Purchased second-hand._

_Creased spine. One of her favorites._

Sherlock grabbed the novel and looked over the cover, his eyes scanning over the half-naked, muscular man holding a police badge, and the well-dressed, brunette woman he held against his chest.

_Crime and Naughty Punishment. What an insult to classic literature._

Sherlock quickly scanned the summary, immediately noting the book’s American origin, and the illicit synopsis about a rogue detective solving crimes with his sexy assistant.

He turned to a random page, his eyes immediately scanning the text.

_Shane held Michelle’s delicate wrists above her head, his sparkling blue eyes scanning every inch of her quivering body._

_“I told you to wait outside Michelle. I don’t like when people don’t listen to me.”_

_The handsome detective pressed his toned body against that of his assistant, his hard chest flush against her soft bosom. Michelle let out a soft sigh._

_“What do you have to say for yourself?” He whispered as he deliciously ground his hips into her own._

_Michelle let out a soft gasp, her brown locks curling around her face like a crown._

_“Shane… You’re not the boss of me.”_

_“Really?” He ground his hips into her again. “Last time I checked, Princess, you liked being bossed around.”_

_Michelle opened her mouth to issue another hasty retort, but Shane took the opportunity to capture her delicious, pink lips in a harsh kiss._

Sherlock rolled his eyes and skipped a few pages, wondering if the book had a crime that needed to be solved. He resumed reading.

_Shane grabbed a handful of her hair, continuing his oral assault down the smooth skin of her neck. He bit into the delicate skin and shoved a hand into her panties, his fingers connecting with soft, hot, wet flesh._

_“Oh yes… Shane… I need to be punished. I’ve been bad,” Michelle gasped out, her hands reaching out to pull on his dark, curly locks._

_Her sexy detective grunted in response and kissed her roughly before moving his assault down to her chest. “Don’t worry. My cock is going to teach you a lesson, Princess.”_

_Michelle reached out and palmed his engorged length, imaging all the ways that his big, thick cock was going to teach her to be a good girl. Her insides ached for his man meat, dying to feel the delicious stretch—_

Sherlock was jerked away from his reading by the sound of a grocery bag being unceremoniously dropped onto the kitchen table.

Molly took in the scene before her. Sherlock on her sofa was not a new occurrence. It happened rather frequently. Toby snuggled on his chest as he read one of her trashy romance novels was however, very new.

“Sherlock?” She squeaked out, her eyes zeroed in on the novel in his hands, “What are you doing?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat up, causing Toby to jump off his chest and run into another room. His eyes drifted over the nearly naked couple on the front of the novel before looking back at his pathologist, who had turned a rather deep shade of red.

_Interesting. She’s embarrassed._

“Hello Molly. I was just reading some of your…riveting literature.”

The brunette hurried over and grabbed the book, quickly shoving it onto her bookshelf. She turned back to face Sherlock and wrapped her arms around her petite frame.

_Protective stance. She did not want me reading that book._

“Right. Well. Yeah.” Molly cleared her throat and raced into the kitchen, quickly shoving some of her cold goods into the bottom shelf of the fridge. Sherlock watched, intrigued, until he noticed a new box of the chocolate biscuits. Having finished her previous one, he grabbed the container and dove in.

Quickly swallowing the first bite of the sweet, he continued to watch Molly as she shoved the milk into the fridge.

“The novel was disappointing. It was about a detective and I couldn’t find anything about a murder.”

Molly sighed and shut the fridge. She leaned against the appliance, finally willing herself to look back at the consulting detective.

“It’s not that type of book Sherlock. It’s… Well, it’s a romance novel. Not a mystery thriller. He just happens to be a detective.”

Sherlock ate another biscuit. “Do you like to be punished Molly?”

The pathologist let out a squeak, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

_Interesting._

Molly swallowed and walked into her sitting room, forcing herself to keep Sherlock’s gaze. “Why are you here?”

“Can I not drop by and visit an old friend?”

Even embarrassed and slightly turned on by the thought of being punished by Sherlock, Molly couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Please, Sherlock, you never do anything without some sort of ulterior motive.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to challenge her statement, but shut it after releasing it was best not to test her at the moment. He needed her brain.

_That’s new._

“Very well. I need your help.”

“Let me guess. New case?”

“Smart you are, Molly Hooper.”

“Alright then. On with it. I don’t have all day. I have plans for tonight.”

_Wine and ice cream purchased at the shop. New take-away menu from the Indian restaurant down the street sticking out of coat pocket. Evening to be spent at home._

Sherlock just nodded. “Yes, very well. A middle-aged couple was discovered dead in their bed yesterday evening. Typically, such a scene is indicative of a murder-suicide—”

“But this isn’t a murder-suicide,” Molly interrupted, suddenly intrigued.

“No, it’s not. It’s a solid eight. They were naked and…appear to have been in the middle of sexual intercourse.”

Molly raised an eyebrow. “They were shagging when they were killed?”

Sherlock sighed. “That’s how it appears. We did some digging and discovered that they were involved in a practice called ‘swinging’, which is—”

Molly interrupted again, this time with a soft laugh. “I know what swinging is Sherlock. No need to explain.”

The consulting detective crossed his arms, again like a petulant child. Molly rolled her eyes and motioned for him to continue.

“As I was saying, they were swingers. Now the couple who was murdered were not married to each other. They were swinging on the evening of their deaths. So obviously we have their respective spouses as potential suspects, but their entire community has thirty members. We know the two murdered parties had at least slept with eight or so partners a piece since joining.”

Molly opened her mouth, clearly shocked by the numbers. “Wow. That’s… a lot to start with.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but groan. “Clearly. We don’t even have a cause of death yet. And the worst part is they didn’t even send the bodies to St. Bart’s because of that stupid shooting at Hyde Park!”

The pathologist shook her head. “Sherlock, six people died. Sorry I have other autopsies to perform.”

The consulting detective rolled his eyes. “Right. Anyways. We know the characteristics of one of the murder weapons. I have spent hours trying to figure out what it could be. Nothing comes to mind.”

“Describe it to me.”

“It’s some sort of blunt object with a rounded edge, about 20 centimeters long, with a pulsation or tremor,” Sherlock groaned and continued, “I initially thought it was a drill of some kind since one of the members of their community is a carpenter. However, a drill would have left a laceration and this did not.”

Molly stared at Sherlock’s bewildered expression, her own thoughts running on overdrive. Her cheeks once again turned pink as she mentally battled herself, deciding if the weapon could really be what she thought it was.

Sherlock looked over to her from the now half empty box of biscuits on his lap.

_She has an idea._

“Well?”

Molly gulped. “Oh… I don’t know. Have…” She groaned and leaned her head against the well. “Have you considered a sex toy?”

Sherlock just blinked. “Excuse me?”

Molly swallowed and stood up straighter, forcing herself to look at Sherlock as she spoke. “A sex toy. Some of them pulse. They well… They vibrate.”

The consulting detective blinked. “Sex toys? People play with toys when they have sex? Like… toy trucks?”

Molly squeaked and began to play with the hem of her baby blue cardigan. “No, Sherlock, sex toys. You must know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I’ve never heard of a sex toy. What purpose do those serve? I’ve never read about them in a medical journal. Clearly they don’t increase the likelihood of egg fertilization.”

Molly attempted to fan her cheeks before desperately straightening her already perfectly wrinkle-free cardigan. “No, Sherlock,” she whispered, “People use sex toys for pleasure. If I… If I had to guess…. I’d reckon the weapon was a vibrator.”

“A vibrator? Describe it to me.”

Molly shifted from one foot to the other, trying to figure out how a man in his mid-thirties had never heard of a vibrator. Then again, Sherlock was unlike most men. He was unlike anyone.

“Well,” she started with a gulp, “They’re as you described. They tend to have rounded tips to uh… well to… mimic the shape of a penis. And some can be on the shorter end, but most are around what you described. About 20 or so centimeters. They vary in color, some to resemble skin tones, others more exotic like…”

Molly swallowed and shifted. “Like blue, maybe. But most importantly, they vibrate. At varying levels. Some have a soft purr. Some could probably move on their own from the intensity of their vibration.”

_Intimate description. She has one. Blue, phallic shaped with varying levels of vibrating intensity._

“Show me.”

Molly squeaked. “Show you? I… I don’t have one to show!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and began moving towards her bedroom. Molly squeaked and ran after him. Unfortunately, her short stature was no match to keep up with Sherlock’s long-legged strides.

He entered her room and focused his attention on her bed.

_Right side of duvet shows signs of cat fur. Suggests Toby’s nighttime position. She sleeps on the left._

His eyes shifted to the left side of her bed and the night stand beside it. The old piece of furniture had three drawers.

_Top drawer will keep practical items. Reading glasses. Tissues._

His eyes moved down to the second one.

_Exact level of her body when she lays flat on the bed. Perfect reach for her arm when preoccupied._

Sherlock sauntered over and opened the drawer, delighted to find a blue, phallic shaped vibrator. He tossed Molly, who stood in the doorway with bright red cheeks biting her lip, a look over his shoulder before lifting out the toy.

He turned and looked at her before pressing the large button on the base. The toy began a soft vibration in his hands. He watched Molly gulp as he pressed the button again, and again, and again, feeling the intensity of the vibration increase with each further press.

_Vibration. Hence the name._

Sherlock looked at the pathologist curiously.

“So, these are used for…?”

Molly just sighed, visibly defeated. “Wanking, Sherlock,” she whispered, “People, mainly women, use them to masturbate. They’re… lovely.”

Sherlock turned the device off and redirected his attention to Molly. “You masturbate?”

Molly somehow turned an even darker shade of red. She shifted and leaned against the wall.

“Yes, Sherlock, I masturbate. Everyone does. Did you really think only men wank?”

Sherlock blinked. “Yes. Female sexual pleasure serves no biological function.”

Molly let out a humorless laugh. “Right. I forgot it was already fun for us to hold a baby for nine months and then have our vaginas ripped to shreds.”

Sherlock nodded. “Exactly. What further incentive did you need?”

The pathologist just shook her head, trying to be surprised by Sherlock’s ever charming statements.

“Masturbation is wonderful. It’s relaxing and lets you slip into a world unlike real life. Your fantasies come alive all while your body goes on this roller coaster ride of feelings,” Molly swallowed, feeling her insides grow hot as Sherlock watched her with his intense blue gaze.

“Your senses are on high alert. You feel everything so intimately and then… when you finally reach true bliss, your body shuts down in this beautiful, state of pure content,” She laughed, blushing again, “Of course it’s still not as wonderful as shagging a good partner.”

Sherlock looked away from the rambling brunette, suddenly aware of how warm the room was. He pulled at his collar before wandering out of the room. Molly broke from her trance and followed him, her cheeks still tinted pink.

“None of this makes any sense. I thought you would enlighten me but it turns out I’m just even more confused!” Sherlock let out an annoyed growl and grabbed the detective novel from her bookshelf. He held the book in one hand, and her blue vibrator in the other.

“What purpose do these serve? Why do you own an instrument to mimic sex? Why do you read a book filled with lewd descriptions?”

Sherlock groaned and tossed the two items onto her sofa. He began to pace the sitting room.

Molly stared at the consulting detective, her eyes wide and mouth open.

“I… I don’t understand.”

Sherlock let a growl from deep in his throat escape. “That figures. No one ever understands! It must be so difficult for the rest of the world, you know, having such empty brains!”

Molly whimpered and moved towards the curly haired man. “I’m having trouble understanding you Sherlock. I would love to help.”

He groaned again. “Fine. Answer me this. Why do people have sex if they don’t want to procreate?”

Although the question took Molly by surprise, it only took her a few moments to come up with a response.

“Because it feels good,” the brunette offered.

At the statement, Sherlock groaned and began pacing faster.

“You and John both! Because it feels good? What type of pathetic answer is that? It’s like scratching an itch! It’s not some form of life changing pleasure.”

Molly whimpered and mumbled a retort under her breath.

Sherlock took notice and returned his penetrating gaze to her. “Come again?”

Molly sighed. “I said just because you haven’t experienced it doesn’t make it so.”

He narrowed his gaze. “You’re contradicting me.”

Molly stood up straighter and crossed her arms. “One thing I admire about you Sherlock is that you speak with such conviction. You’re always so sure of yourself.”

“Because I’m always right,” the detective offered.

“No, Sherlock, you aren’t,” Molly shot back before collecting her book and vibrator off the couch. “You see these two things? They make me feel bloody good. But not in the way that wine, or take-away pizza, or Hugh Grant, or a raise makes me feel.”

Molly looked at the items in her hands and gulped. “They… get my heart pounding and make me shake and quiver and… when all is said and done, I can’t think straight. My mind is empty. Blissfully empty.”

Sherlock just blinked, staring at the brunette.

“You clearly don’t understand because well…” Molly hesitantly shifted her gaze back to Sherlock, “You’ve never had a good orgasm.”

Sherlock cleared his throat and forced himself to remain rigid. “I hardly see what a good orgasm has to do with anything.”

“Exactly what someone who has never had one would say,” Molly mumbled.

Sherlock groaned and stood up, sick of her rambling. “I’ve wanked Molly. I’ve had an orgasm. They relieve an ache. That is all. I shut my eyes. I think of nothing. A few minutes later the job is done.”

Molly couldn’t help but blush at the thought of Sherlock touching himself, but she forced herself to focus on his words. “Wanking does not mean you wanked well! Having an orgasm doesn’t mean it’s a good one! Don’t you… ever fantasize? Think about…” she gulped and continued, “A beautiful woman? Past experiences?”

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably. Molly watched and waited for a response. Silence filled the room for a few moments before he responded, albeit ignoring her question.

“You’re planning on masturbating tonight,” He spoke aloud, instead of asking, “Clearly your evening plans were ordering take-away, watching the telly and using your… vibrator.”

Molly swallowed and stuck her chin up defiantly. “Yes, actually, that was the plan.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “But it no longer is?”

The pathologist shrugged. “According to you, it serves no function. Fucking myself with my vibrator and falling asleep a sweaty, satiated mess would be for nothing.”

The detective’s eyebrows quirked, surprised by her language.

_Why is her entire flat so bloody hot?_

“I could hit the pub with Meena. Try to find a fit guy. Have a good shag. Indigo is a lovely companion, but he’s no bloke.”

“Indigo?”

“My vibrator.”

Sherlock glanced at the toy. “Splendid. Wonderful. Exciting. I still have a case to solve.”

“Oh. I solved it already.”

That got Sherlock’s attention. “Excuse me?”

Molly offered a polite smile. “I haven’t solved the murder. But I solved why you can’t solve it.”

Sherlock narrowed his gaze at the brunette. “Please, Molly, enlighten me.”

 “You’re sexually repressed and your body hates you. So much so that your brain is starting to turn on you.”

Sherlock took a step back, taken aback by her words. “Me? Sexually repressed? There’s no such thing.”

Molly looked at Sherlock like he had grown another head. “You’re a smart bloke. Why are you acting like such an idiot?”

He just glared at her.

“Let’s think about this logically. Remember when you disregarded the feelings of everyone you cared about and starting using again?”

Sherlock shifted again.

“What happened when you stopped using?”

“I really don’t see how this relates, Molly.”

“Sherlock. Answer me.”

He groaned. “My body craved the drugs. It craved its next hit.”

“Exactly! And right now, your body craves sex! It craves the release. Until you realize that, you’re going to be a pent-up prat.”

Sherlock cleared his throat and stared at Molly. Her hands shook in frustration. Her cheeks remained red. Her hair was beginning to loosen from her braid.

_Could she be right?_

The detective swallowed and nodded slowly. “Fine. I enjoy a practical application. I’ll test your theory.”

Molly sighed in relief, but blushed once the implications of his words sunk in. “Great,” she managed to stutter out, “Go home and knock yourself out.”

Sherlock looked at her curiously. He shook his head. “Oh, I won’t be returning to Baker Street. Given your evening plans, I figured it’d be best for me to test the theory with someone with experience.”

Her eyes widened and a squeak escaped her lips. “Are you suggesting that—”

“We wank together? Yes. I’d like to see what you do to reach orgasm. Now, I understand that our anatomies are different, but our brains hypothetically work the same.”

“Sherlock! People don’t normally just… do that in front of their friends!”

“Perhaps, but I’m conducting an experiment. You know, for science.”

Molly just blinked. “For science?”

“Yes.”

Molly swallowed and nodded weakly. “Great. Well. What if I don’t want to do participate?”

He tilted his head, gazing at the brunette curiously. “Well, surely you’re curious too.”

Molly groaned and bit her lip. She was curious alright, but not about his experiment. She might as well take the opportunity to see his cock. She hadn’t seen one in months anyways.

_She’s in._

Sherlock gave her a signature two second grin before returning to his normal emotionless face. “Great. Excellent. So. Where do we begin?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!!


	3. The Experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly helps Sherlock conduct his experiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Chapter three! Please enjoy :)

Molly stood in her kitchen, refilling the water in her kettle. She glanced into her sitting room, her eyes scanning over to Sherlock, who currently sat on her sofa reading her favorite dirty novel. She shook her head. Of all the books he could have picked up (and she had plenty of medical journals, encyclopedias and even a real mystery novel lying around), it had to be her guilty pleasure pick. Sure, Shane (the sexy rogue detective from Atlanta) had little in common with Sherlock, but the thought of a naughty detective fucking her with his big cock sure got Molly going.

She pulled two new cups out and sighed. She really was pathetic. And now she and Sherlock were going to wank together? This was not how she expected her Thursday evening to go. A few reruns on the telly, maybe some Netflix, a good wank after a long bath and off to bed.

Not… Sherlock.

Sherlock peered away from the novel, his eyes zeroing in on the pathologist.

_She’s nervous. Clearly neither of us want tea._

He returned to the book.

_Shane grinded against Michelle, his hands gripping her smooth thighs. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers? Make you cum like the naughty girl you are?”_

_Michelle let out a desperate cry and pressed her aching center to the outline of his hard cock. After one taste, she was absolutely addicted. She needed Shane like she needed oxygen._

_“Good, princess, because now I’m going to fuck that tight—”_

Sherlock’s reading was interrupted by Molly setting a tray down on the coffee table. He grabbed the cup and took a sip of the tea to be polite.

“You know, this book is rather dull. No murder, no mysterious disappearance, nothing.”

Molly flushed and grabbed it from him. “I told you to stop reading it!”

He shrugged. “I was bored.”

The brunette sighed and sipped her tea, her foot tapping anxiously against the wood floor of her flat.

_Most definitely nervous._

“Well, as fun as this is, when are we getting to my experiment?”

Molly let out a sound of distress, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Right. The experiment.”

“In the name of science.”

“In the name of science,” Molly repeated.

Sherlock set the tea cup down and jumped off the sofa. “Excellent. Shall we?”

Molly couldn’t help but let out a pathetic squeak. “Shall we what?”

Sherlock gave her a look of hesitation, for once seeming unsure of himself. “Well, don’t we take this to the bedroom? Shouldn’t you be the one leading the trial since you have more experience?”

Molly mumbled to herself before standing. “Right. The bedroom. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m quite sure. I’m looking forward to proving you and John wrong.”

The pathologist couldn’t help but laugh, her gaze trained on a very adamant Sherlock. “You really think you’re going to have a wank with me and not leave completely satiated?”

He gave her an intense look. “Perhaps.”

“Oh Sherlock,” Molly said softly, “You are going to be in for the experience of your life.”

Sherlock gave her a pointed look. “Well then. Let the games begin.”

With that, he sauntered into the bedroom, Molly hot on his heels. He looked around the room.

_Limited clutter. Lots of pillows. Always prepared for guests._

His gaze shifted to a black, silk dressing gown, which hung off the back of a sitting chair beside her window. He looked to Molly.

“Your dressing gown is new. What happened to the blue one?”

Molly gave him a look. “I still have it. Now I don’t have to come home and find you in my dressing gown. You may use the blue one.”

“Very well. But I think I prefer the silk one.”

Molly narrowed her eyes at Sherlock and shook her head. She tried to remind herself not to smack him, especially since the evening was going to fulfill one of her ultimate fantasies—Sherlock naked and on her bed. She managed a deep breath and began to shakily unbutton her baby blue cardigan.

Sherlock watched as she shrugged the cotton jumper off and moved to follow with her blouse. He flinched.

“Hold on. Why are you getting undressed?”

Molly paused, the hem of her black blouse hovering above her navel. She gave the consulting detective a curious look.

“How else am I supposed to wank?”

The detective froze, his mind clearly moving faster than it could process his thoughts. Molly recognized the look. He was buffering. Whenever this happened, she always wanted to cop a feel. She always assumed he’d never notice in the state.

_Naked. Wanking. I’m going to get naked and wank. In front of Molly. She’s going to get naked and wank. In front of me._

Sherlock blinked.

“Very well. For science.”

In his ever-dramatic fashion, he unbuttoned his blue shirt and neatly placed it to the side. As he began to work on his belt, he noticed Molly staring at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

The pathologist blushed and shook her head. She pulled her blouse off and went to work on her trousers. As she kicked them off, her eyes drifted back over to Sherlock, who now stood admiring—analyzing, she corrected herself with a sad sigh, her barely covered body. Had she known she was going to be stripping for Sherlock, she would have picked a sexier bra and knickers set than the white cotton with pink ribbon one she was currently wearing.

Sherlock continued to analyze Molly, his eyes starting from her disheveled braid all the way down to her pink-coated toes.

_Tan lines on shoulder. Darker lower legs than thighs. Burned from cycling excursion._

_Plain bra and knickers. Two years old. Owns eight pairs of same set in various colors._

_Pink toes suggest feminine interests. Finger nails kept unpainted for work. Would be pink if they could be._

Molly cleared her throat and forced herself to keep her hands by her sides, and to not give into the strong temptation to cover her exposed body. She had never been the subject of a male gaze that felt so… clinical. She shifted her weight to her other foot and took the chance to admire Sherlock’s form. His thin but strong frame, muscled thighs, firm butt, and just delicious curls falling into his eyes.

She couldn’t help but let out a groan.

Sherlock tilted his head, watching her curiously. “Well? Show me.”

Molly swallowed and nodded. She moved towards the bed, but halted. With a quick glance towards Sherlock, she tossed her bra and dropped her knickers. Once naked, she climbed onto the bed, falling rather gracefully until her gaze met the ceiling. The shy mouse in her wanted to stare at the white canvas the entire time. Her inner vixen yelled to keep his gaze and drive him wild. She groaned.

As her internal struggle waged on, Sherlock stared at her bare form. His eyes found her small, but pert chest with rose petal tips, before continuing down her flat and unexpectedly tan midsection.

_Her breasts aren’t as small as expected. Of adequate size. Should one want to touch and hold them in his hands._

Sherlock blinked.

_Why would I want to hold her chest?_

Shaking himself out of his bizarre thoughts, he hesitantly moved towards the bed. He watched as Molly grabbed her vibrator…

_She calls him Indigo._

And laid back expectantly, waiting for Sherlock. Upon noticing her attention, he just blinked.

“Um… Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“Get on the bed. I thought we were doing this together?”

Sherlock shifted and took a step towards the bed. He paused, his eyes shifting from the room, to the bed, to Molly, to his own pants.

“Well… Yes. We are. But. I was hoping you’d demonstrate first.”

Molly just nodded, deciding right then and there that she was going to have a good wank, regardless of what Sherlock did. She didn’t normally consider herself an exhibitionist, but she supposed she didn’t mind doing things if it was Sherlock who was watching.

Forcing herself to begin before her anxious thoughts convinced her to stop, jump off the bed, run into the bathroom and not come out, Molly pressed Indigo’s button. She met Sherlock’s gaze as she pressed it three more times, finding her favorite setting on the toy.

_Four. Intense vibrations with sporadic pulsing._

With one final, fleeting thought of _what the fuck am I doing?_ Molly pressed the toy to her already aching core. Letting out a soft cry from the contact, she threw her legs open and fell deeper into her plush mattress. She began to move the pulsing blue toy through her damp folds before settling its attention on her clit. Her eyes practically rolled into her own head as she kept the toy centered.

Standing at the corner of the bed, Sherlock watched his naked pathologist press the vibrating toy into her most private parts. He shifted from one foot to the next, uncomfortably aware of how warm the room had gotten as well as the unfamiliar tightening sensation in his groin.

Well, perhaps unfamiliar was unfair. Sure, Sherlock had gotten hard before. He _was_ human. He _had_ wanked. It just didn’t happen frequently. And normally, when the sensation began, Sherlock could will the blood to flow in another direction. Preferably to his brain, being his best and most used asset and all.

Molly opened her eyes and met Sherlock’s watchful gaze. Feeling his piercing blue gaze on her bare skin was too much. Before she could slow down her ministrations or convince herself to hold on, even for just a bit longer, she felt the telltale sign of a pending orgasm. The sensation overtook her body, flooding her form with pure, unadulterated bliss.

She couldn’t help but laugh as she turned Indigo off and dropped him to the side. With a satisfied smile, she ran her hands up to her chest, and gave her tender breasts a squeeze, causing her to let out another delightful moan.

From the end of the bed, Sherlock stared at his pathologist with wide eyes.

_What in the bloody hell was that?_

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it once he realized his brain had short circuited. His cock was now fully hard and ready to go, pressing against the dark silk of his pants. Completely and utterly dumbfounded, he continued to stare at Molly.

“What was that?” He managed to choke out, his eyes looking over her flushed body frantically.

Molly blushed and pushed herself up on her elbows. She bit her lip and let her eyes travel over Sherlock once more, admiring what appeared to be a rather generous bulge in his pants.

“Isn’t it obvious?” She couldn’t help but tease the genius.

He swallowed. “I just… Well I…”

“Clearly you’ve never seen a woman orgasm before. I admit, that happened must faster than it normally does,” She laughed and squeezed her chest again, enjoying the afterglow of a good orgasm.

Sherlock just blinked. “Well… I… How?”

Molly smirked and sat up fully, her eyes trained on Sherlock. “I’ll explain. But first, on the bed. And take those bloody pants off.”

The detective nodded hesitantly before finally dropping his pants. While he normally didn’t care who saw him naked, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of hesitation around his pathologist.

_Nudity is natural. We were born nude. There is nothing special about the naked form._

Molly raked her eyes over his completely naked body, zeroing in on his rather impressive cock. She let out a soft moan, and couldn’t help but slide one of the hands that had been fondling her breast to between her legs. Her hand began a soft fondling of her wet folds, her eyes staring at Sherlock’s engorged cock.

“Perfect,” She choked out, biting down on her lip to stay focused, “Now sit on the bed. Close your eyes. Think of something that excites you. And just touch yourself.”

Sherlock swallowed and took a seat on the bed, his eyes moving from Molly’s chest to the hand that was now playing peek-a-boo between her legs. His mouth opened, as if to say something, but closed with a soft swallow.

After taking a deep breath, he finally wrapped his hand around his cock. He shut his eyes for a moment and began to stroke his engorged member. He tried to keep his mind on his usual wanking material—

_Compose another piece. Play the violin. Sip tea. Outwit Mycroft._

But something wasn’t working. His usual peaceful thoughts did nothing to relieve his ache. In anger, he opened his eyes and glared at Molly, the movement of his hand stilling.

“Molly! I knew it. None of this wanking actually—”

His complaint fizzled away as his eyes landed on Molly, who had taken to lying back, her face red and her body shaking. With her gaze centered on what had been Sherlock touching himself, she caressed her breasts with one hand, and furiously fucked herself with the other. Her soft cries continued to permeate through the room, her eyes still glued to Sherlock.

_My god…_

Suddenly, the detective was captivated. His brain and his cock couldn’t decide on which place to focus—her breathy moans and beautiful face contorting in pleasure, her small hands grasping at her pert breasts, or the furious movements on two fingers moving in and out of her pink, glistening sex.

His cock made the decision for him. His brain, now without any blood and oxygen, was left to rot inside its own mind palace. With his eyes exploring every inch of her body, his hand returned to his cock and began a renewed vigor.

_Oh god…_

His eyes shifted to the movements of Molly’s hand, watching in fascination as she added another finger into her quivering body, her moans growing in frequency and volume. He squeezed himself and began to pump faster, his own body shaking.

_What is happening to me?_

His pace increased, and his movements began a furious stride on his lap. His eyes moved back up to Molly’s face, watching as she threw her head back and let out a desperate cry, before stopping her movements completely, a content smile taking over her face.

Sherlock let out an identical cry, his movements wild. Then his world went white.

Xxx

_Sherlock walked along an empty corridor, wearing a rather fashionable white suit. He looked around the empty walls, desperate for an explanation of where he was._

_“Oh, this is absolutely ridiculous! Someone explain to me what is going on!” Sherlock stomped his foot like a petulant child._

_Silence._

_Sherlock growled and continued to storm through the empty corridor, before discovering a single door. A name plate rested in the center._

_“IA?” Sherlock shook his head and stepped inside._

_Laying on a large, circular bed, in nothing but a white dressing gown, was Irene Adler. She sat up and gave Sherlock a knowing look._

_“Oh, Sherlock! My god! I thought I’d never see you,” she cried out excitedly._

_Sherlock looked at the female curiously. “Why are you here? Where am I?”_

_Irene just laughed. “Oh Sherlock… You’re the detective. You tell me where we are.”_

_Sherlock growled in annoyance and looked around the white room, empty sans the bed that Irene laid across. “I don’t know. Obviously. Otherwise I would not be asking.”_

_Irene laughed again. “Oh darling… We’re in your mind palace.”_

_Sherlock blinked and looked around again. “Impossible. There is not a section of my mind palace that is this bleak and empty.”_

_Irene smirked. “I believe there is Sherlock. And you’re standing in it.”_

_The detective crossed his arms and glared at the woman. “Explain.”_

_“This,” she began, before rising to her feet, “is where you store your knowledge of sex and pleasure. All that existed before today was that hideous thing.”_

_She pointed to a small, rather old filing cabinet in the corner of the room. The single drawer was adorned with a tattered label reading “human reproduction”._

_Sherlock groaned and started to pace. “Wonderful, splendid, except not. You’re boring me. Why am I here?”_

_Irene rolled her eyes and began to primp her hair. “Because, Sherlock. You’ve just discovered how wonderful sex and pleasure is. Once you leave this room, you’re going to walk into another one. Except that one is going to be far naughtier.”_

_The detective narrowed his eyes. “Right. Why exactly are you here then?”_

_The woman conjured a tube of lipstick out of thin air and began reapplying it to her lips. “Isn’t it obvious? You associated me with sex. Not because you were physically attracted to me,” she gave him a rude look, “Because you made it rather clear that you weren’t,” she sighed and capped the lipstick, “but because I had a lot of wonderful sex. I quite enjoy a good shag.”_

_Sherlock shifted and looked around the room, this time startled to find another door. Contrary to the previous one, this door was a dark shade of bluish purple…_

_Indigo._

_He swallowed and stood up straighter before turning to look back at the woman._

_“Well, go on ahead. She’ll be expecting you back shortly. Any longer and she may call John,” Irene laughed and dropped back down to the bed._

_Too stunned to speak, Sherlock just nodded and moved towards the indigo door. As he reached for the handle, the woman called out his name. He turned to look at her._

_“Just know I’m always here for you. In case you need an extra… push.” She smirked and let the edge of her dressing gown fall to expose her pale shoulder._

_Sherlock made a noise of disgust before storming through the indigo door. A flushed Molly laid across her own bed, a pair of white cotton knickers with a pink bow wrapped around her ankle._

_“Sherlock? Come back. We’re not done,” the brunette giggled and bit her lip._

_Sherlock grunted. He needed no further incentive to return. He strolled over to the bed and fell onto the soft surface. Then his world went black._

Xxx

Sherlock gasped and opened his eyes. He looked up from the bed, startled to find Molly staring at him with wide eyes.

“Um… Sherlock… Are you okay?” she managed to squeak out.

Sherlock swallowed and nodded quickly. “Very much so. Quite alright actually.”

Molly flushed and raised herself to shaky legs. She crossed the room and reached for her dressing gown.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock managed to get out.

The pathologist turned to look at him. “I’m putting my dressing gown on.”

Sherlock swallowed and sat up straighter. “No.”

Molly gave him a confused look. “No?”

He rose to his feet and sauntered over to her. “No. My experiment isn’t finished.”

The pathologist swallowed before squeaking out, “What else do you need?”

Sherlock looked over her nude body and ran a shaky hand through his curly locks. “You previously said this evening, and I quote, that wanking is ‘not as wonderful as shagging a good partner’. I will need to test that claim.”

Molly’s mouth fell open.

“Great. So. Shall we begin?”

Molly remained staring at him, mouth agape.

“Okay. I suppose this is when I kiss you.”

Sherlock leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Molly’s lips. His hands dropped to her hips.

_Think, Sherlock. How does John kiss Mary? What does kissing look like?_

As he desperately searched his mind palace for images of kissing, Molly awoke from her stupor and took the task into her own hands. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the detective as hard as she could.

With a groan, Sherlock pulled them to the bed, collapsing onto the soft surface. Molly bit his lip and maneuvered her tongue into his mouth, surprised to feel Sherlock kissing her back with just as much intensity.

As the pair continued to kiss, Molly moved her hand between their bodies and wrapped her shaking hand around Sherlock’s newly awaking member.

_My god… what is this? Is this what it feels like when someone else touches you?_

Molly moaned into his mouth and began to move her hand, her tongue and fingers working vigorously on different parts of the detective’s body. Sherlock kissed her harder, his own hands taking a crash course of the female form, exploring her soft chest, flat stomach, and toned thighs.

“Molly…” Sherlock choked out, his hands squeezing her delicate chest, “I must admit... I’ve never done this before.”

The brunette captured his lips in another harsh kiss and continued to work his hard member in her hand. She dropped her lips to his neck, leaving kisses and bite marks down the usually pale skin.

“Good. Then it’s time for me to finally teach you something,” she moaned out.

Molly climbed onto his body, grinding her hips against his hard member. She let out a soft curse before taking him in her hands again. Sherlock leaned up to capture her lips in another kiss, his hands still moving all over her smooth skin.

“My fantasies are so happy that you have a big cock,” Molly moaned out. She moved over him, rubbing the tip of his engorged length against her own swollen flesh.

Sherlock only managed a grunt before moving his mouth down to her chest. He paid particular attention to her rosy nipples, enjoying the feel of the tips in his mouth.

At her own tipping point, Molly grabbed his chin and forced his face to her own, capturing his lips in another harsh kiss. With one last desperate moan, she lowered herself onto his hard flesh, tossing her head back as her body struggled to stretch to accommodate him.

_By god… is this why John is always so bloody happy?_

_Oh fuck._

_Oh fuck._

_Oh fuck._

Molly began to move her hips, releasing strings of curses and delightful moans every time her hips slammed against Sherlock’s. Her detective just stared at the brunette, his eyes wide, his mouth agape, and his fingers practically digging holes into her hips from holding onto her so tightly.

“You see Sherlock,” Molly managed to gasp out, her body continuing to slap against his, “this is why people shag.”

_Oh fuck._

_Oh fuck._

Molly leaned down and captured his lips in another rough kiss before moving her ministrations to his neck, sucking on his pulse point in a desperate attempt to leave a mark (mainly to prove to herself tomorrow that yes, this did really happen).

Sherlock, on the other hand, remained completely entranced, his eyes and mouth wide, the only proof of life being his desperate hands roaming her body, and the way his hips came off the bed and met hers with every movement.

With one last long draw of her hips, Molly’s body tensed. With a loud string of profanities and desperate cries of “Sherlock”, Molly lost control and collapsed onto his body in quivering mess.

Her own orgasm and clenching insides triggered the same in Sherlock.

_What’s happening to me?_

_What is this?_

_Is this…_

_Oh fuck._

_Oh fuck._

The consulting detective let out an uncharacteristically loud and passionate cry, his entire body shaking as he wrapped his arms around Molly. He buried his face in her neck, desperately trying to catch his breath.

_For once John wasn’t an idiot._

Molly moaned softly and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s damp curls. She wrapped her hands around his cheeks, bringing his face to her own.

“Well?” She whispered, a soft smile playing on her face.

Sherlock swallowed. “It appears that I was mistaken on the benefits of sex.”

Molly laughed softly and kissed him again. She snuggled into his body, enjoying the messy kisses they shared, basking in their own post-shag bliss.

That was until Sherlock tensed up and pulled away, his eyes blank. Molly frowned.

_That’s it._

“Sherlock?”

The consulting detective immediately leapt out of bed and proceeded to dress himself as quickly as possible. Molly sat up and dragged the sheet to cover herself, suddenly feeling sick.

“You’re leaving?”

As he buttoned up his shirt, he looked towards the pathologist. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’ll be back. I just solved the case.”

Molly blushed and dropped the blanket, the air refilling her lungs. “What? How?”

Sherlock waved his hand as if the answer was obvious. “The sex cleared my head. And the sexual position we engaged in helped me realize where the intruder would have entered their bedroom. Ergo, the pool boy did it. With the help of his swinging, older lover.”

Molly just blinked. “You’ll be back?”

The consulting detective smiled softly and walked back to the bed. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and forehead before moving towards the door.

“Of course. There’s still so much to learn.”

With that, Sherlock offered Molly a rare smile and hurried out of her flat.

Back in the bedroom, Molly collapsed onto her bed, wanting to laugh, cry, scream, and shout all at once.

Xxx

Sherlock and John stood outside of a large home in Essex, both watching the pool boy and older lover be escorted out of the house by Lestrade and his men.

_Graham? George? Greg? Yes, Greg._

John looked over at the detective expectantly. Sherlock turned to look at his partner, raising his eyebrow at the look John was sending his way.

“Yes?”

“You haven’t explained to me how you figured this one out. Especially since you were so confused not even four hours ago.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and took out his phone, furiously texting away.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a genius.”

John narrowed his eyes. “Sherlock.”

Sherlock pocketed his phone and narrowed his eyes. “John.”

John took a step away from Sherlock and gave him the once over. He laughed.

The consulting detective narrowed his eyes. “Is something funny?”

John smirked. “Obviously.” He had always wanted to use the detective’s retort to his own face.

Before Sherlock could offer a response, John closed the space between them, pulling Sherlock’s scarf away from his neck. Now in the London moonlight, his love bites and scratch marks were completely visible.

John just laughed. “My god! It happened!”

Sherlock growled and ripped the scarf out of his partner’s hands. “Oh, fuck off John!”

John stumbled away, phone in hand, laughing and desperately trying to draft a text to Mary.

Sherlock growled and fixed his scarf. John took a shaky breath and shoved his phone in his trousers. He turned to look at Sherlock.

“Well? Was I right?”

Sherlock swallowed and looked away. With a curt nod, he was on his way.

John laughed and yelled after him, “Go home! Have a shag! You have some twenty years to catch up on!”

Xxx

Across the city, Molly laid in bed, wrapped in her new silk dressing gown, Toby keeping her feet warm. As she drifted in and out of sleep, her phone buzzed.

Reaching over, she grabbed the device to see a text from Sherlock. She smiled softly and opened it.

_I’d be happy to punish you tonight, Princess._

_SH_

Molly turned red and set her phone back down.

She was going to have to burn that book.

 

 

_The End_

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this story! I've appreciated the amazing feedback so I can't wait to hear what you guys think about the conclusion! I admittedly jump between fandoms, writing for a ton of different stuff, depending on what I'm watching, reading, and feeling. I have a soft spot for aloof protagonists though, so I would love to write some more Sherlock work if people want it! Let me know what you guys think of this chapter and I certainly hope you've enjoyed my story!


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